Speak

In case you were wondering...kids do care

2011-02-11T06:53:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here, at my teacher's desk, trying not to bawl my eyes out. Filled with joy. Sheer joy and pride in my students.

We have been learning about the Holocaust in my English classes and have started reading Night by Elie Wiesel. In conjunction with this, my kids have been doing research on more contemporary examples of genocide (Cambodia, Rwanda, Argentina, Srebrenica, Iraq, etc). Naturally, no look at present day genocide would be complete without examining one of the most horrific atrocities of all in our time: Darfur, Sudan.

I made a powerpoint with photos and info and introduced it. I told them we would be doing a "Dollars for Darfur" drive in my class - so that we are able to partner with Help Darfur Now in providing aid to the refugees there. I told them that the reason we were doing this was because I wanted their eduation to be real, for them to be learning and doing something that mattered in the world.

When the video was done, my kids sat there stunned. My normally hyper 9th graders were completly silent. Some were blinking back tears. One blonde haired teenage girl in the back raised her hand.

Me: Yes?
Girl 1: Isn't there something else we can do? Us...we...our class isn't enough.
Girl 2: Yeah. They do those breast cancer drives and pasta for pennies and stuff. Why can't we?
Boy: YES! We could put boxes in every homeroom class!
Girl 2: And make posters and Tshirts!
Boy 2: Maybe we could talk to the principal about holding a pep rally!
Girl 1: We could even make bracelets or sell lollipops or something!
Boy 1: Yeah, we've got to do something...

(excited brainstorming and chattering ensues...while I stand at the front of the classroom, trying very, very hard not to cry...)

Let it never be said that kids don't care. They do. And I am awed and humbled by their compassion.

So say a prayer for me. With these kids at the helm, I'm going to be a very busy lady. :D

Why God Prefers Atheists

2010-10-09T10:15:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about God, faith, and the lack thereof. It started with an episode of Glee last week, in which Kurt - even though he is pressured to do so by his "friends" - refuses to profess in his belief in any sort of higher power:

"The reason I don't go to church is because most churches don't think very much of gay people...or women...or science...I think God is kind of like Santa Claus for adults. Otherwise, God's kind of a jerk, isn't he? Well, he makes me gay and then he has his followers going around and telling me that it's something I chose. As if someone would chose to be mocked every single day of their life....You can't prove that there's a magic teapot floating around on the dark side of the moon with a dwarf inside of it that reads romance novels and shoots lightening out of its boobs, but it seems pretty unlikely, doesn't it?"

Fair point, Kurt. Troubling, but a fair point.

At the episode's close, Kurt decides that his "sacred thing," is not singing songs in a cold, unfamiliar building, but his family (specifically, his father).

I then noticed facebook status updates and blog postings by many of my friends throughout the week pertaining to the subject. Some were outraged - i.e. how dare Kurt's friends try to make him believe in something. Others were upset by the episode's portrayal of religion: "We're not all crazy zealots!" My own emotions fluctuated wildly before settling somewhere in between after a somewhat unorthodox idea popped into my head:

I really think God likes atheists. Perhaps, even more so than some of his/her so-called "followers."

Think about it. What is an atheist's supposed sin? A lack of faith in something he/she cannot see, touch, or validate. Most of the folks I know who are atheists are sticklers on this point. They want facts, figures, and statistics. They want a logical explanation for things. They want PROOF.

...Why is that somehow wrong?

Granted, I hear the word "atheism" something in my heart just starts hurting - but that is only because of how I have re-discovered my own faith in a new way. Not that long ago, I - in essence - used to be one. Or, was agnostic at the very least. When I was attending Florida Southern College, I went through a serious "faith" crisis. I learned a lot of things that they didn't exactly teach us in fundie Sunday school:

"What? The Bible isn't inerrant? Hell could be a metaphor? The NIV (along with many other "versions" of the Bible) is a gender biased translation that, due to its many errors, has allowed countless women to be marginalized? WHAT?"

These issues, along with many others, deeply unsettled me. I didn't know how I could believe in a God that rationalized sexism, genocide, gay-bashing, intolerance, and endless other unspeakable horrors that I - in good conscience - could not reconcile myself to (and indeed, NO human being should reconcile him/herself to these things). For a period of several years, I walked away from anything resembling the Christian faith in its entirety. I relate very strongly to atheists for this very reason. I was so riddled by doubt and distrust in organized religion that I didn't think I could ever believe in God again.

Then, I met a boy.

A boy who I would eventually get engaged to, a boy who - unbeknownst to me at the time - would start abusing me, quietly. There are no words that can possibly describe what this boy - because I cannot use the word man - did to me. Suffice to say, towards the end of my relationship with him, things had escalted to a point where - had I not gotten help and gotten out when I did - I, quite literally, might not be here today.

There was one particularly bad episode, one in which he was screaming at me as he drove us down the road. Being stuck inside a moving vehicle, there was no way for me to get out. I remember sitting there, tears pouring down my face, as he screamed that I was a "whore" and and a "liar" and any other name he could think of to hurt me. Hoping that he wouldn't lose it and do something worse than scream.

I knew what would come later, as they always did: the "I'm sorry's" and the "it will never happen again's." But he wasn't. And it would. And it was as I was thinking on the fact that it was never going to stop - the endless cycle of heartbreak and coerced reconcilation - that it came to me. I hadn't been to church - Christian or otherwise - in over three years at this point. I couldn't tell you the last time I had read any sort of "scripture" or prayed a prayer. But as I sat in the cushioned seat of that haunted, dark blue Trailblazer, the words of an old Bible verse quietly came to me:

"Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks."

It's Luke 6:45, though I couldn't have told you that at the time (indeed, I had to look it up again before attempting to write this blog. My Bible-thumping, scripture memorizing days are long gone). But there it was, clear as a bell inside my brain: "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." In otherwords, the truth of what a person really thinks, feels, and believes comes out when they are most passionate/emotional.

And in that moment, as I sat in that car and listend to my then-fiance verbally ripping me to shreds, I realized that this - the screaming, the name calling, the degredation, the lack of respect and love - was the truth of how he felt for me. Not the apologies. Not the empty promises of change I had clung to. This moment, this darkness, this was the truth and reality. And it was this realization that gave me the courage to find the strength to leave my abuser and get help.

This instance, this moment when truth returned and led me to freedom, is why I believe in God - the very embodiment of Truth. And why when I hear the words "I am the way, the truth, and life," I tend to think that Christ was talking less about a "ritual" and a "religion" and more about reality. A way of living. Of being.

Truth is my "sacred thing."

We've all been to a football game or some other similar event where we've seen some person holding up the iconic "God is love" sign. But God is more than that: "God" is every good and noble thing. "God" is what is right in the world. "God" is "truth"...and truth can free all of us.

Many years ago, Wheaton philsopher Arthur Holmes wrote a book, one that would prove to become a great source of theological/philisophical contention for those who came after him. On page eight of this book, Holmes makes the statement that "all truth is God's truth, wherever it be found," and I find myself deeply liking that idea.

This means that if something is true - if it's real, genuine, factual, verifiable - that it is God's. Because Truth is God. This means that whether it's physics, evolution, philosophy, family, music, art, or theology (and not just Christian theology) that serves as the medium, if there is something "true" to be found within it, then God is there as well. And He/She/It is loving it.

It also means that the more difficult truths - like the fact that it's ridiculous to hate someone like Kurt because God made them differently, or that all our "holy books" have errors, and that no one has the corner market on "enlightenment" - are God as well. And I think that - when we counter these lies that are propogated as truth, when we beat back the darkness in our own hearts and chase what is real (as opposed to what others "tell" us is real), when we find what is honest and sincere no matter how controversial and earth shattering it may be, that God - that Truth personified - rejoices in it.

Which, I think, is why God/Truth loves atheists, because there is no group of people in the world as dedicated to pushing past the hocus-pocus and flim-flam of whatever idols that we, as human beings, have established in order to get TO the truth. Atheists are some of the most avid truth seekers I know. Which also means that, through their doubts and questioning, they are also some of the ones that are closest to God (no matter how much they might balk at such an idea). :)

At the end of the gospel of John, we are introduced to Thomas - the great, proverbial, doubting Thomas - who refuses to simply accept his friends' word that Jesus had risen from the dead: "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my fingers where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it."

Christ said that those who believed without seeing were "blessed." Christ admittedly conveyed his admiration for those who had the heart to believe without evidence, but this blind faith is not - in the end - what provides deliverance. The real deliverer, the real redeemer, the real "savior" is Truth. Truth is the freedom-bringer. And, when Thomas was confronted with the Truth, he embraced it and found joy in it. It was Truth, not blind faith, that set him free and made him whole.

And it did the same for me.

So I applaud Kurt, Thomas - and any others - who need to see the nail marks, who need the data and the hard evidence. It is out there, waiting for you. Keep hunting. And when you find it, when you can reach down and dig your fingers into it, when you finally clasp it and let it forever change your reality into something authentic, when you find your "sacred thing," don't you dare let it go.

Truth is calling. Answer.

Breaking news: My life is a soap opera

2010-04-30T05:58:00.001-07:00

Breaking News: My life is a soap opera

In September, I recieved a letter on my doorstep. In it was my mother's anniversary ring - the one with four diamonds to represent the four members of our family - and a letter saying that my dad had "left her."I later learned that he'd accused her of having - at the very least - an "emotional affair" with her coworker and business partner. She, however, having learned of his online affair with another woman, apparently felt justified.

After several months of bitter arguements and feeble attempts at reconciliation, it became clear that things weren't going to get better. I, meanwhile, was having flashbacks of my time with my former fiance...horrible, soul-shattering flashbacks of things so terrible I'd "forgotten them"...and was now remembering them with heartwrenching clarity...

Cue the entrance of the classic "push and pull," the "he said, she said," that all children of divorce go through - no matter their ages. Cue my father openly admitted to cheating on my mother (at least in cyberland)....something I never really wanted to know. Cue my dad dating other women almost immediately after they seperated...and before their divorce was even finalzed. Cue my mother becoming paranoid....tying off the doors in the house with electrical cords when the alarm stopped working, accusing my father of "spying" on her via remote locating software (as if he were some sort of homicidal maniac). Cue mom oscillating between apologetic, antagonistic, and anal rententive.

Cue me not knowing how to feel about my dad...and worrying that my mother was having a mental breakdown.

Cut to: my dad only calling me when he wanted money or needed something.Cut to: me finding out, via the internet, that - when she "didn't have time" to come visit/see a movie with me - my mother was taking the daughter of the man she supposedly had an affair with out to a music concert. After weeks of asking her to come see me because I felt so alone. Because I had no one.

Fade to: me, sobbing and screaming at her over the phone. All I can manage is "She's his kid," while Mom proclaims that she never knew I was so selfish or immature. She cannot understand why I'm being so "unreasonable."

Cut to: me the next morning, unable to go to work because I feel so sick. Zoom in on me, having a panic attack for the first time, because I can't breathe I am so hurt. Pan out to me, in a counselor's office, being told I have anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of what my parents and former fiance have done to me. I began treatments and started learning coping techniques. Fade to black.

Flash foward a total of 6 months. I had logged into facebook and made a startling discovery: my mother had deleted all the pictures she had of my father and had started using her name. I had to discover, via a social networking site, that my parents were officially divorcing each other.

They didn't even have the decency to give me a phone call by way of warning.

Fade to a picture of my family in a dictionary: the word "dysfunctional" is typed in black ink in the sidebar

.......Intermission....... during which.....

I go through counseling, finally realize that it's my family that is psychotic (not me), and that despite what my former fiance has done to me, I am strong and able to survive anything.

I learn that I can love people without agreeing with what they do. And that, sometimes, that's the only option we have.

I realize that my happiness is in my hands...and I cannot wait for someone to find it for me.

I realize that no one has the right to tell me what to do or how to live my life...because it's MINE. I come to understand that I strong - not weak - because of all I have been through.

And, because of what I have been through, I come to understand that I have no room to judge...anyone...and no longer have any desire to.

I learn there is a hope for me...and that I am not "lost" or without potential.
I learn that I do have talent...and I am "good" at some things...good enough to get into one of the top low-res grad schools in the country -Vermont College of the Fine Arts - and will now have the ability to pursue my dreams (instead of someone else's).

I learn that, even for the most damaged of souls, God always has and always will have a plan.
And God always saves.

Days of Our Lives...eat your heart out.

How's THAT for a life lesson?

What is feminism? Quotes and Thoughts

2009-10-08T10:19:00.000-07:00

Rebecca West:
I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute.

Elaine Heffner:
Women do not have to sacrifice personhood if they are mothers. They do not have to sacrifice motherhood in order to be persons. Liberation was meant to expand women's opportunities, not to limit them. The self-esteem that has been found in new pursuits can also be found in mothering.

Gloria Steinem:
This is no simple reform. It really is a revolution. Sex and race because they are easy and visible differences have been the primary ways of organizing human beings into superior and inferior groups and into the cheap labour in which this system still depends. We are talking about a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen or those earned. We are really talking about humanism

Jane Galvin Lewis:
You don't have to be anti-man to be pro-woman

Michele Le Doeuff:
A feminist is a woman who does not allow anyone to think in her place.

Women are not the weak, frail little flowers that they are advertised. There has never been anything invented yet, including war, that a man would enter into, that a woman wouldn't, too. ~Will Rogers

To tell a woman everything she may not do is to tell her what she can do. ~Spanish Proverb

Women are not inherently passive or peaceful. We're not inherently anything but human. ~Robin Morgan

"Feminism is not about a lack of faith in God. On the contrary, it is the actualization of faith; it is the acknowledgement that God is God and man is not. If we really go back to our roots, if we really look back at our original translations, if we really get into the sematntics of it all, I think we'll find that God - the real G0d - is a decidedly different entity from who we imagine God to be. God is bigger than gender, above and beyond mere matters of "male" and "female": I daresay we should be as well." - Anonymous

Nooo....Come back, TNIV! Nooooo!

2009-09-03T11:27:00.000-07:00

So, in the same day that I learn of the existance of a gender inclusive verison of the NIV (YAY!!!!! OH RAPTUROUS JOY AND DELIGHT!!!) I also discover it is being pulled from the shelves because certain major, male players in fundamentalist camp - Dobson, et al - are pitching a fit (BOO! HISS!!! WRATH AND WOE!).

I am utterly heartbroken.

I discovered this distressing fact on Her.meneutics - a women's blog designed to focus on issues important to Christan women. The blogger, however, Karen Beaty, alleges that the loss of this gender inclusive Bible "won't mean that much, actually."

Really?....Um....can we say showdown? ;)

I couldn't resist replying: I'm # 2 on the board, Lol.

I find this sort of sentiment absolutely infuriating - especially coming from a woman. Please, please, PLEASE go there; read this article for yourself. Better yet, go visit Zondervan's website afterwards and tell them just what you think about the course they're on. Regretfully, this decision is yet another classic, heart-rending example of why feminism is still needed and relevant (especially in the Christian sector!) We, of all people, are supposed to be promoting equality, justice, and Christ's love.

Answer me one question, Karen Beaty: How does this recent turn of events accomplish that?

Enlighten me.

Bravo, Jimmy Carter

2009-07-20T18:45:00.000-07:00

My goodness it's refreshing to see that people can still think for themselves and that they aren't afriad to challenge tradition to stand up for what is right. I've already blogged on the "submission" verses (see April), but kudos to Jimmy Carter. His decision to leave the Southern Baptist church was no doubt a very difficult but very brave one. I applaud President Carter's integrity and his desire to see justice done in the world. Bravo, sir. Bravo.

Methinks I may be a Methodist

2009-07-16T13:28:00.000-07:00

So, I've been going to the Methodist Church down the street for about two months now...and I really, really like it. I am so excited to be attending this church (and I can't remember the last time I felt that way).

I can honestly say that this is the first church that, ideologically and theologically, I agree with. I've checked byline after byline, issue after issue, and I'm about 98% on the money with the Methodist worldview. There are no words to describe how exciting this is for me: I never thought I'd find a church where it was okay for me to be intellectually curious and challenging without being accused of being heretical.

I'm no longer lost in the fundamentalist camp!!!! YAY!!!

I just bought a book that will likely frighten my mother: Saving Dawin: How to be a Christian and Believe in Evoltion. I'm not really sure where I stand (having come from hardcore Fundie roots that, quite literally, scream "Evolution is the devil!") However, I am curious. Now that I am an adult, I think I would like to be able to make the decision whether or not evolotion is valid for myself, hence the research. Again, I love the Methodist stance that science and faith should not be incompatible...and that is soooo different from what I grew up with.

I'm not sure where I'll swing either way, but I want it to be my swing: not my parents' or anyone else's. So I'm really looking foward to reading this book and deciding for myself where I stand.

Though I must confess: part of me gets evil kicks and giggles out of the idea of putting a Darwin fish and a Jesus fish kissing each other on the back of my car. Thanks for that, Becky. Lol!

Interesting...

2009-07-12T08:06:00.000-07:00

It has been three months and twelve days since I broke up with my former fiance, who I had been with for one year and four months.

A month after we'd broken up, he called me and told me he "might have met a girl."

Two days ago, I found out he was officially "in a relationship", a la facebook.

Yesterday, I was informed that he is no longer merely in a relationship: he is now engaged...

to a girl he's dated for, at most, two months.

There really are no words to describe my emotional reaction to this; I'm not really sure I even know how I feel myself. The only thing I can keep thinking is "Wow." Just "wow."

I've gone from "Love of his life" and "the one that got away" to "replaced by some random new chick" in the blink of an eye.

Two months.Two months.

Wow.

Success...sort of

2009-07-02T20:33:00.000-07:00

So, Ashley and I tried baking chocolate chip cookies with almond flour today...one word: SUCCESS!!!!!!! Oh my goodness! They are soooooo yummy! All we did was take an ordinary chocolate chip recipe and modified it a bit: we used Splenda bround sugar substitute and 3 cups of almond flour instead of 2 cups of regular flour. The consistency was a little different than normal cookies and, because they didn't rise, we initially had "cookie cake." However, with some creative shape cutting, Ashley and I might even go so far as to say that almond flour cookies are BETTER tasting than normal chocolate chip cookies! She, Ben, and I have already come close to devouring half the batch! Too awesome!

On the downside, I've been feeling a little discombobulated lately. Emailed an old professor asking him to look at my poetry portfolio...his reply email indicated that he didn't even give it an honest look over (didn't notice major changes, indicated that he'd mostly skim read, etc). It was more than a little disheartening...I was so excited about making progress on a portfolio for grad school: silly as it may seem, little things like this make me question whether or not I should even be doing such a thing.

Maybe I just don't fit...

*sigh* Hooray for PMS induced melancholic musings.

I can only hope that God will make my path clear...and that, once on it, I will find joy in the journey (instead of resenting the roads not travelled). We'll see how it goes.

Best New Poets...and other writings

2009-06-21T05:16:00.001-07:00

Ack!

BNP has finally read two of my three submissions, which means results shouldn't be too far away...

God, I would love to get another one of my "ill-formed offspring" in ink.

I've been working feverishly on my portfolio - while trying to move at the same time - but have had some surprisingly good results. Just penned a poem I adore, "visiting lady lethe (late one friday evening)," about my late great-grandmother. I've asked Professor Pantano - Edge Hill University - to look over my portfolio and see what needs tweaking so that I'm more competetive as I go to apply for my MFA this fall. Hopefully, this will help my chances and - if nothing else -I'm having a marvelous time and getting some much needed input.

I'm really excited about where this is headed...I feel possibilities dancing around in my brain, and I absolutely love it. It's a wonderful place to be (famous last words: I'm waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under my feet in the form of rejection letters and a "your poems suck" declaration from Prof. P, lol).

So we'll see how things go!

In the meantime, I'm off to do some NEFEC homework (ugh!) and enjoy Father's Day. Best wishes to all, and to all...an MFA acceptance? :D Take care, folks.

Low Carb Kick

2009-06-12T13:32:00.002-07:00

It is official: I am now, in part, a health nut.

After recently stepping on the scale and discovering that I gained 20 lbs - 10lbs during my volitile relationship and 10lbs after the break-up of said relationship - I have decided enough is enough. There's no way I'm going to sit here and become a blard-o-saurus just because of some stupid boy who broke my heart. To pervert Dorothy's statement as she clicked her dainty heels together, "I will not be a Mack-truck. I will not be a Mack-truck. I will not be a Mack-truck."

I've never really been one for diet and exercise; my metabolism - up to this point - has always been active enough to where I've never needed to do such things. Obviously, those days have come and gone.

In a way, though, this is kind of exciting. I've always wanted to eat/live healthier, so now I have an excuse to summon the motivation to do so. I wanted something that would work fast...and something that is totally new to me, so I opted to try the low carb approach.

And it has been hard. Brutally hard.

Seriously. Normally all that I eat is carbs: bread, pasta, rice, bagles, ugh!!! I WANT IT NOW!!!! :P I could kill for some tortellini...or some chocolate cake.

But no. I resist. I perservere. I carry on - and the pounds do not. In one week, I have already lost 6 lbs just by cutting the extra carbs out of my diet and replacing them with protein and fiber. :D Tilapia, that yummiest and least fishy-tasting of fish, has become my new best friend. Gorton's sells a wonderful butter/garlic dressed variety; it's also killer with just a little bit of salsa on top if you're itching for something spicy. Pair it with some "Simply Steamed" seasoned veggies and, dear Lord, I'm in diet heaven. It's really not too bad!

I'm trying to keep my carb count to 20 g net, a la Atkins, at least for the first two weeks (though I must confess, if I go a couple over I'm not going to have a heart attack). To help stave off my carb cravings, I'm looking into a baking alternative: almond flower. Only about 2 net carbs per 1/4 cup of flour..which means I could have LOTS and LOTS of cookies to get me through! Or muffins...or cake...

If you're feeling moisture flying at you from across the screen, please forgive me. I'm salivating pretty intensely at this juncture.

Newest Wish List Item:

To steal a line from the Beatles: "I WANT YOU! I WANT YOU SOOOOO BAD!!!"

The catch: sugar creates carbs too...so I will see if I can use splenda/other yummy substitutes and still get the effect I desire. Who knows? If I find anything particularly yummy - even if its outside of the realm of baked goods - I may just post the recipe here!

I'll keep you posted: in the meantime, I'm off to eat some chicken and broccoli! Yum! Toodles!

Summer Dreamin'

2009-06-10T19:15:00.001-07:00

I've decided that this summer I am going to "dream big" and keep busy. I distinctly remember emerging from the end of my previous summer thinking to myself "Goodness, where did it go?" and "How did I so completely and utterly waste it?"

I've been itching to have an adventue as of late - to stretch the bounds of my comfort zone and do things I wouldn't normally have time/be inclined to do. I'm really hoping to adventure into the realm of the abnormal, and have a marvelous time doing it. It's not about "succeeding" at anything this time around: just about enjoying the ride. :D

Here's my adventure checklist - We'll see which items I mark off (or add later on, lol):

1) Visit Christina and her new baby!!!! This is a must!! :D
2) Have a "Girls' Weekend" Beach Trip to St. Augustine. I'm a native Floridian and I've never been...yes, I know: it's pathetic - hence its location on my to do list.
3) Audition for American Idol when it comes to Orlando - just for kicks and giggles. *cue AI theme song: duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh duh!*
4) Spend a much needed week with Tori Sandbrook in Boston, MA
5) Spend some time with the family in North Carolina...I love me some mountains. I'm hoping to get in some hiking, cavern exploring, horseback riding, white-water rafting goodness.
5) FINALLY read some of the books I've been dying to read
6) Continue to build my poetry portfolio and, hopefully, get accepted into a poetry journal for publication
7) Work on my would-be chick-lit/urban fantasy novel

Here's to adventure! :D

Bittersweet Beauty

2009-05-26T17:45:00.000-07:00

I don't regret my decision to break-up with my fiance. For where we were at and what was going on in our lives, it was the right thing to do. I know that now...but it's still hard and, in spite of everything, I still miss him. So much.

I wish I could hate him, that I could rant, rave, and curse him from here to Timbucktu.
All I can manage is a bitter, nostalgic sigh.

He's changing...for the better...and I am instensely jealous and heartbroken by it, as petty as that sounds.

He's found a church and finally started attending on a regular basis - all on his own.
He's involved with the music ministry at his church.
He's eating healthy, working out, and trying to take care of himself.
He's learning how to manage his money.
He's got a chance to - if it pans out - get out of the dead end job he's been stuck in and pursue something that makes him happy.

....all of which I begged him to do when we were still together. For months, I begged. Months. Now, when it's too late, he finally acts on these things.

I am happy for him. I truly am. It brings me great joy to know that something good has come out of this, that - despite all the heartache - his life is changing for the better, that he is finally becoming the person that God meant for him to be.

It just breaks my heart that it's all happening now that I'm gone.

Why? Why couldn't it have happened when we were together? Why couldn't he realize the things his realizing now when I begged him to? Why does he get to be a good person now that he's away from me?

At the risk of sounding like a petulent two-year old, it's not fair.
It's good, I'm happy for him, but it simply isn't fair.

And it hurts.

Ethical dilemmas

2009-05-03T06:23:00.000-07:00

Former boy is sick...going into the hospital for a procedure.

He wants to see my puppy for a couple of days before he goes.

Mentally, I'm thinking "Well, the guy's about to go through a lot...you should probably "woman-up" and be kind - even if it's hugely uncomfortable. He doesn't really have anybody and this could be a good thing to do." Which, of course, my parents are gunning for.

The more emotional part of me is saying "I don't want to be anywhere near this man. The thought of it alone makes me hurt. It's my dog; he doesn't have a right to insert himself into my life anymore."

I feel like my personal boundaries are being violated...like I'm being forced into continued contact with a man I want nothing to do with. I just want to be left ALONE. So much of my life for the past year and a half was wrapped up in doing what he wanted me to do. Consequently, my instinctive reaction is to say "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! This is my life now. You can't have it back; you can't be a part of it."

My inner two year old is screaming "THIS IS NOT FAIR" but part of me grudgingly worries I'm being petty...

Thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions?

God knows I'm out of them.

I feel like my entire life is hanging by some sort of invisible, unbalanced, thread. I can't see which way I'm supposed to turn on the highwire. Will I have a job two weeks from now when the county-wide lay-offs are announced - which will mean frantically searching for a new apartments and/or new roomates. Or will I be forced to trek it back to Orlando and search for a job there, living with my parents - kowtowing to their views, rules, and procedures - as though I were some sort of invalid instead of a fully fuctinioning adult? I just don't know...

And the worst part is, I'm not even sure which one I want anymore.

I am going to feel like an utter failure if I stay with my parents for more than the summer. If I'm truly an "adult" then I should be doing the adult thing and be trying to make my own life. But God, it is lonely in an apartment by yourself with no one but your dog for company; and at least I'd be as far away from the former-fiance as possible...less potential for heartahce that way. Not to mention, the security of a familiar place is extremely comforting in its own way....

I guess I'm just looking for direction. I will try to cope with whichever scenario I end up following: I just want to know that I'm doing the right thing - following the course of action that will actually get me somewhere and help me DO something with my life.

Guess I'm just waiting for the right window....

La vie poem!

2009-04-25T16:23:00.000-07:00

Great news:

Three of my students went to a poetry slam...we practiced...they competed...and two of them took 1st and 2nd place - beating out all the other kids from all the other high schools!!!

I am so proud!! :D

...

2009-04-21T15:39:00.000-07:00

The ex is still calling. STILL.

Just when I start to feel like I can function: another message lies waiting on the machine.

How am I supposed to get better if it doesn't ever stop? How am I supposed to heal?

And why do I feel guilty and like a bad person for needing space?

And why do I want to cry when I get email messages like this - even though I know it's "for the best":

"you know what, i get it-im through with this."

through with me, he means...like I'm not worth the breath it takes to write the email....

And why do I even care? STILL? When I'm the one who initiated it?

I should be rejoicing, right?....then why does my heart hurt? Why does it still matter?

And as I care, why do I still feel afraid?

...and why am I writing about it here?

All things new

2009-04-18T10:38:00.000-07:00

Things have been pretty rough, lately. There have been some complicaitons with the ex: comlications that have made it rather difficult for me to dis-entangle myself. I am trying with a desperate fervancy to maintain my sense of separation. I need time and space to heal from all of this: a need that is hard to meet when the cause of that need persists in trying to contact me and reconnect. I worry for him; I pray for him; I wish I could mend the pain and frustration he's going through - but I can't. I'm not a savior: for myself or anyone else. God is the only one who can bring me any healing in this mess: I'm praying that God will be able to do the same for all other parties involved.

I spent Easter Sunday at Northland listening to Pastor Joel Hunter preach. Fantastic sermon. In the wake of everything that's happened, things have been rather hard lately. I am still reeling from the death of a dream; I am heartbroken because I know my former fiance is hurting - as am I. I have found myself struggling to hang on to the truth, to that oh-so-often quoted passage from Jeremiah: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord. In the face of all I've lost - the love, the dreams, the self-esteem - it has been easy for me to get lost in the mourning.

Pastor Joel's Easter sermon, though, reminded me of a truth I had long forgotten about: after death, ressurection will come. His reminder to the congregation that "we can't get so caught up in what we've lost that we don't see what's right in front of us" was an apt one - one that speaks directly to where I'm at right now. He referenced Mary at the tomb and her inability to recognize Jesus when he spoke to her: she was so busy being distruaght that the failed to see that Jesus - the one she was longing for - was standing right in front of her.

When Pastor Joel talked about how Jesus spoke to Mary at the tomb, I could mentally see God asking me the same question: "Megan, why are you weeping?" God - my hope, my life, my validation, my love - was there the whole time: I was just so busy grieving that I missed him. He's been right here with me - all I had to do was be willing to actually look for him instead of drowning him out and looking away.

Especially in light of my recent grad school failure, I have been trying to re-evaluate where I am headed. I tried to plan out my life my way: everything fell apart. I am now trying to find the courage to surrender to whatever it is God might have in store for me. Luckily, part of me is irrepressibly excited about the future: new options, new choices, an endless parade of possibilities stretched out before me that I never had before (or, rather, never opened myself up to before). The endless sense of entrapment I've been buried under for the past several months is giving way to a delicious feeling of freedom.

Though it hurts my pride and my heart, maybe there is a reason I didn't get into grad school for Creative Writing. Maybe it was the wrong season or the wrong place. Maybe I was meant to do something else entirely - and my writing was meant to merely be a side enjoyment of mine. I am sincerely trying to allow my old tendencies - the fear of failure, the need to "prove" myself in the "real" world, etc - to stay nailed to the cross. Amibition and desire aren't bad: but chasing them at the exclusion of everything else most certainly falls into that category. It was my fear of letting go of my dreams, my desires, my wants, that allowed me to end up so heartbroken and far from both God and hope in the first place. I've tried it my way and experienced the pain that brings.

My gut-feeling is that - since there's nothing left to lose, no other dream to shatter, no other plan to fall apart -now is the time for me to let go of my fears and my pride and do things God's way. There is no better time for me to fully commit, to fully let God have control of my life. I need to let go of the false fear that somehow, by letting God lead, I will end up miserable, unfulfilled, and unhappy: that's what happened when I was in control. The worst I could imagine is what occurred when God was out of my life: not in it. I only pray I can be granted the strength to stand in the truth and recognize that. This particular issue is one that, as far as my life is concerned, doesn't like to stay dead; instead of being nailed down, it likes to ressurect itself like a ravenous zombie and, a la Resident Evil, tries to eat me whole.

I have no interest in being zombie food.

I am still hurting; I am still working through my sorrow. Some of the anger and heartache I've been harboring run deep, and I am struggling to give them over to God. Though it was not easy to hear, Pastor Joel's sermon provided me with a window of hope that I haven't dared to look out of in a long time. I'm so grateful for the reminder that, though I may be reeling from the death of my dreams right now, a ressurection will come. It may not be the way I expected it; it might not be exactly what I planned, but I am trusting that it will be what God has planned from the beginning and - if I will simply open my eyes to what God places in my life - I can eventually experience the same joy that Mary found that first Easter morning.

There's hope for Paul yet...

2009-04-11T07:07:00.000-07:00

So I’ve been cruising this new blog I’ve found - which is absolutely phenomenal – and I was reading an article one of the bloggers posted on 1 Timothy 2:9-15. Specifically, they addressed the cultural and historical forces at play during the time this epistle was written, and – subsequently – how our lack of knowledge on these issues might aid in an unintentional misinterpretation of these verses.

Specifically, this blogger addressed Paul’s famous encounter with Artemis and the Ephesians.

“In like manner also, that the women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with propriety and moderation, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly clothing, but, which is proper for women professing godliness, with good works. Let a woman learn in silence with all submission. And I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man, but to be in silence. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived, fell into transgression. Nevertheless she will be saved in childbearing if they continue in faith, love, and holiness, with self-control.” 1 Timothy 2:9-15.

Many an independent, freedom-loving woman has had significant problems with these verses, and rightfully so: if taken on a literal and surface level, they seem both demeaning and unjust. What happened to “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for we are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28), right?

This blogger, beautiaful, asserts that these verses are geared specifically to the women at the Church in Ephesus (which was suffering from the injection of neighboring religions and the threat of doctrinal blending). The blogger asserted the following:

1) Verse 9, the verse which extols women to “dress modestly” without “braided hair, gold, or pearls” is not an outcry against beauty, but against pagan beauty. Apparently, these adornments were trademarks of the women who worked Artemis’s temple and, in order to avoid spiritual confusion, Paul didn’t want them adorning another faith’s spiritual robes. (Just like we wouldn’t want a Muslim wearing a Yamika or a rabbi wearing a priest’s robes).

2) The blogger also suggests that the word “silence” is often misinterpreted from its meaning in the original Greek, which is “peacefulness” or “peaceable-ness” – especially the sort of peacefulness found in a learning/educational environment. In other words, Paul was first arguing for these women to receive an education (what a novel concept) and that, because they were being misled by the heretical teachings of the Artemis cult, they should not be teaching these heresies to the Christian body. They had to submit to the true teachings of Christ – as all Christians do.

3) The blogger also contends that the word “authority” from the Greek word “authentin” is also translated in a misleading manner in many modern texts. “Authentin” can apparently also be translated as a violent sort of dominance – the sort associated with sexual abuse, crime, or unchecked power. Here, Paul is arguing that women should not “dominate” or “abuse” men – like those who would adhere to an Amazonian tradition would encourage women to do.

4) The “Adam and Eve” order speech is an attempt to counteract the Gnostic argument that Eve became “enlightened” when she took the forbidden fruit: instead of merely racked with sin. The Gnostics, apparently, glorified Eve’s role in the Fall of Eden, trying to paint as something beautiful and admirable instead of heartbreaking. This verse is less about man’s superiority to women and more about a reiteration of the facts and doctrinal clarity.

5) The women will be “saved” through childbearing is a call for women to place their faith in God, not a pagan goddess, to keep them save and alive through the birthing process.

All in all, I found this article to be absolutely smashing. I love the spirit and intelligence of the arguments. However, being an English major - one who heavily focused on myth and folk lore during my college course work, I had a couple of small qualms I’d like to address. Subsequently, I’d like to offer some alternative pov’s.

The blogger of the traditional blog asserts that the people of Ephesus were drawn so intensely to Artemis because of her roles in fertility rituals and childbearing:

"Ephesus was a decadent Asian city, whose focal point was the fertility goddess, Artemis. The Romans called her Diana. Artemis is said to be the twin of Apollo and the daughter of Zeus and Leto. The cult of Artemis was particularly alluring for women because Artemis was believed to protect her female worshippers during and after childbirth. Plus, women were viewed as superior to men, possessing secret divine knowledge. Men were drawn to this cult as well because sex was part of the worship rituals, where men would receive divine knowledge through engaging in sexual rituals with female priestesses" (beautiaful).

*drum roll* Cue the entrance of my quirked eyebrow and questions.

Traditionally, in so far as I have been taught and trained through my college coursework, it is my understanding that Artemis is not the "fertility" goddess that this blogger is depicting her as. In her original incarnation, Artemis is - indeed - the twin of Apollo and the daughter of Zeus, but I think this blogger unintentionally omitted one crucial thing: Artemis was a virgin.

In fact, Artemis was synonymous with virginity and sportsmanship (specifically game hunting, archery, etc). Artemis also later became associated with the moon, cycles, etc (in direct contrast with her brother, Apollo, who is associated with the sun, diurnal reality etc). In her original myth, Artemis begs her father not to get married because she doesn't want to be "dominated" by men. She has no fear of sex or men: she just doesn't want to lose her freedom, so she chooses to abstain. Her priestesses, likewise, would have had the same views: they too would have abstained from fertility rights and would have avoided contact with men.

It was Hera, actually— not Artemis— who was the original goddess of childbirth and fertility. That was her official station as the "queen" of all Greek goddesses. She - and occasionally Demeter - were the ones women offered incense and prayers to in order to ensure a safe birth. Artemis didn’t become associated with childbirth until the Hellenistic era, usurping that role from older, more ancient Greek goddesses.

In light of this information, I think a slight reinterpretation of this blogger’s reinterpretation is in order. :P

I’d be curious to know where she got her info and what her sources were. In so far as I know, priestesses of Artemis would be anything BUT members of an orgiastic, fertility cult; to do so would be to defy the very nature of their virginal, patron goddess.

So I would like to offer the following potential revisions to this blogger’s assertions:

Assertion 1: Good to go. Love it and it works.
Assertion 2: Also agree. Again, good to go.

Assertion 3: Again, would strongly agree, especially given the prominence of the Amazonian myth. However, I’d like to add a couple of thoughts. The fertility cults that the blogger refers to are most likely either a) cults of Hera/Aphrodite or b) an off-branch of Artemis working outside the established doctrinal practices of the main sect.

Either way, women followers of the Artemis cult most likely prized one value above all others: freedom. Just as their patroness abandoned the affections of men to ensure her personal liberty, so too did these women; they become her chaste priestesses and modeled themselves after her. However, like those who followed the Amazonian line of thinking, there is always potential for liberty to be abused. I think that perhaps the followers of Artemis needed some reassurance that - when they abandoned their faith and their power - that they would not be abused and subjugated by men. Hence Paul’s subsequent charge in 1Timothy 3:1-10:

1 Here is a trustworthy saying: If anyone sets his heart on being an overseer, he desires a noble task. 2 Now the overseer must be above reproach, the husband of but one wife, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, 3 not given to drunkenness, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. 4 He must manage his own family well and see that his children obey him with proper respect. 5 (If anyone does not know how to manage his own family, how can he take care of God's church?) 6 He must not be a recent convert, or he may become conceited and fall under the same judgment as the devil. 7 He must also have a good reputation with outsiders, so that he will not fall into disgrace and into the devil's trap.

8 Deacons, likewise, are to be men worthy of respect, sincere, not indulging in much wine, and not pursuing dishonest gain. 9 They must keep hold of the deep truths of the faith with a clear conscience. 10 They must first be tested; and then if there is nothing against them, let them serve as deacons.

Yes, Paul has forbidden the women in this church from teaching at this time due to the heresies they had been taught to believe. Logically then, I think there was a great fear on the part of these women that they would now become victims of abuse, of authentin. I think that, by going over the qualities that a good deacon, a good leader, should possess, Paul does two things:

1) He provides an example for other leaders to follow and emulate
2) By showing these sorts of leaders to be “good” leaders, he lessens the women’s need to fear abuse during the season in their lives where they are asked to peacefully learn: not lead. This would be especially meaningful for the followers of Artemis, who would have potentially lived their lives in fear of male abuse.

I’d even go so far as to suggest that authentin abuse was common practice at Ephesus, which is why more than one sermon is delivered to the Ephesians on this issue:

22 Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her 26 to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, 27 and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. 28 In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. 29 After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church— 30 for we are members of his body. 31"For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." 32 This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. 33 However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband. (Ephesians 5:22-33).

Again, I’d assert that there are multiple purposes to this sermon:
1) Paul challenges both sexes to behave in a Christ-like manner towards one another
2) Paul challenges the spiritually wayward Ephesian women to learn peaceably from their husbands who – since they had been formally trained in the Judeo-Christian tradition – had more insight in matters of traditional doctrine. (Hence Paul’s previous call for women to be educated so that they would not remain ignorant!)
3) Paul also challenges the “spiritually educated” men not to use their knowledge as a license to abuse or mistreat their wives; they are called to help make their wives “clean” again by washing through the Word (God’s; not Artemis’s!), and – by helping her learn the truth she had been denied access to – encourage her to regain a relationship with God that would leave her blameless, pure, and forgiven.

Assertion 4: Again, again: right on the money.

Assertion 5: Yes, I agree, but I’d like to add another thought: yet another reason women joined Artemis’s cult was the desire to abstain from marriage, sex, and the risk of dying through childbirth. Many of these women might have legitimately feared being “forced” into marriage and into bearing children – risking both their way of life and their very lives – by converting to Christianity. I would be curious to know of the original meaning of the word “in” or “through” depending upon your translation, in 1Timothy 2:15:

“Nevertheless she will be saved in childbearing if they continue in faith, love, and holiness, with self-control”.

Perhaps, in addition to challenging women to put their lives in God’s hands, Paul was also reassuring them that they would still their liberty. Maybe being saved “from” childbearing was also being subtly implied so that, if they chose, these women could still remain single and serve God: they did not have to become wives and mothers to fulfill their calling – something that had to be hugely empowering for these women. Furthermore, this idea of Christian singlehood something Paul extols not only for women, but men too! He reiterates this idea to the Corinthians (1 Corinthians 7:32-39):

32 I would like you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord's affairs—how he can please the Lord. 33 But a married man is concerned about the affairs of this world—how he can please his wife— 34 and his interests are divided. An unmarried woman or virgin is concerned about the Lord's affairs: Her aim is to be devoted to the Lord in both body and spirit. But a married woman is concerned about the affairs of this world—how she can please her husband. 35 I am saying this for your own good, not to restrict you, but that you may live in a right way in undivided devotion to the Lord.

36 If anyone thinks he is acting improperly toward the virgin he is engaged to, and if she is getting along in years and he feels he ought to marry, he should do as he wants. He is not sinning. They should get married. 37 But the man who has settled the matter in his own mind, who is under no compulsion but has control over his own will, and who has made up his mind not to marry the virgin—this man also does the right thing. 38 So then, he who marries the virgin does right, but he who does not marry her does even better.

39 A woman is bound to her husband as long as he lives. But if her husband dies, she is free to marry anyone she wishes, but he must belong to the Lord. 40 In my judgment, she is happier if she stays as she is—and I think that I too have the Spirit of God.

When looked at from all angles and when examined in light of the cultural and historical elements of this time period, I can happily say: Wow. What a sermon.

I might even be starting to like Paul.

Just a little bit.

Get it, girl!

2009-04-10T18:52:00.000-07:00

Just found an awesome new blog:http://christianfeminism.wordpress.com/.
Great stuff. Some really smart ladies run this thing and, though I've only just begun exploring it, but it looks promising. A love an honest debate, and this site offers some great ammo. I love their post on the re-interpretation of 1 Timothy 2:11-12. Check it out! :D

Dum Spiro Spero

2009-04-10T17:21:00.001-07:00

So I got the news in the mail just recently: I did not get accepted to the grad school I applied to. So there goes my one would-be consolation prize for getting through all of this...the one thing I tired to do for myself in the midst of it all. *insert aggravated/sad sigh here*

Add to that an ex-fiance who's having difficulty letting go, and life has been somewhat complicated lately.

I find myself going through cycles of emotion: intense sorrow/grief, loneliness/longing, intense relief, and passing joy. I keep rotating through these phases, as if my emotions were the four stages of a clock. And, like clockwork, all four stages appear without fail.

I find, though, little things are getting me through:

Mommy's who come and stay the week with me at my apartment so I won't feel so alone.

Myriads of emails, advice, and comfort from friends

Thursday's at Picasso's Cup painting my "She Who Must Be Obeyed" Mug; I will toture my students with it.

Hymns to chase away the tears at midnight, when no one but God can hear me.

And the promise of lost and broken things getting renewed: friendships, dreams, etc

I'm beginning to suspect that, though I am less than fond of this current place, this is exactly where I need to be. I was always so afraid that if I let go, if I gave God any real control of my life, that I would lose everything.

The great irony here, of course, is that - by not letting God in - I lost everything I "thought" was important anyway: the relationship, the grad school, the dream career. There will be no white dresses, no flowers, no happily ever after's: at least not right away and not the way I pictured them. All of these idols I had in my life have finally fallen through the cracks. I, literally, have nothing else to lose.

What a terrifyingly awful and wonderful thought at the same time.

Right now, I'm just trying to trust and believe that whatever is in store for me will be far better than anything I can imagine.

Granted, my imagination's not exactly hoppin' right now, but you get the idea.

Though the wounds still hurt, though the memories won't fade, in the absence of a fairy tale, in the presence of a shattered dream, I'm hoping, praying, and desperately trying to cling that tiny thread of something I haven't felt for a long while now:

hope.

MVP: Who's #1?

2009-04-04T08:09:00.000-07:00

Current Status: far too contemplative for my own good

I’m sitting here in the car on my way back to Florida. My dad has rigged his PDA to allow wireless internet in the car – a pretty cool feat, to say the least. Nevertheless, my mind is far from the ‘net or the beauty of the mountains we are leaving behind.

Instead, my mind is on other things left…other things lost…

I visited his MySpace page the other day. I couldn’t help it. Some masochistic part of me was curious. As expected, all the standard post-break up changes had been made. “Single” now resided where “engaged” used to be. A friend’s face now rested in the #1 person spot – the place where my countenance used to reside.

Just like that, I had been completely erased out of his life (and vice versa). Any evidence of our relationship only existing in one place: our memories. No shared tags, no more “I love you’s” posted on walls…just like that, it was as if we had never even met in the first place.

Good God, break-up’s suck.

Even though I’m the one who initiated it, even though I know it needed to happen, it still hurts. Worse than I ever imagined. And not in the “I got a limb chopped off” kind of way: more like the “my limb is gone; the wounds are scabbing over. But I still feel this dull, throbbing, ache that won’t go away” kind of way.

What really got me was that #1 slot. Countless times, I had looked on that slot with pride and thought “I’m somebody’s number one. I’m somebody’s everything.” As silly and insignificant as a picture on a website may be, it meant something to me. Being that significant to someone was a unique feeling for me, one I’ve always craved. The one thing I’ve always wanted is to be important to someone, to matter, to mean something.

Now, as I stare bleakly at my computer screen, the pessimist in me can’t help but think “Who do you matter to now? You’re not someone’s number one; you’re not an “everything” anymore. You’re not even a “something.” You’re not even there.”

And the sad part is: it’s true. I’m no one’s “number one” anymore. And there’s no changing that. I might be a two, a three or four, but that #1 slot is decidedly gone; there’s no getting it back.

I’m trying to console myself with the knowledge that there is a God who loves me, who believes in me, and would have died on a cross to ransom me even if I was “the only one.”

Such consolations though, seem empty and small without a pair of loving arms to go with them. I guess that's what faith is for.

So for now, I’ll mourn. It is a loss…the death of a dream. I guess this phase in my life is the funeral. I’m just waiting for the pain to dull…to get buried deep enough in the ground for the healing to begin…

Christian Feminism: a pretty paradox

2009-04-03T16:36:00.000-07:00

I was surfing my way through blog-land, trying to kill some time, when I stumbled across some old blogs by a friend of mine. Now, don't get me wrong: I love this girl to death. When it comes to political and social views, however, we are die-hard opposites. Two blogs of hers, in particular, got under my skin. Mightily. So, while I have the deepest adoration and respect for this lady-friend of mine, I'd like to take a moment to emerge from my mourning and play devil's (angel's?) advocate.

I'll even toss in a few Bible verses here and there, since some individuals in the "anti-feminist" camp draw their arguments from there.

I think that much of the anger, resentment, and general disdain that is directed towards feminism is largely a bi-product of unintentional ignorance. When something is different, contradictory, or *gasp* revolutionary, it's all too easy to label it as "subversive" or "wrong".

Alas, sterotypes are alive and well. We fear what we do not relate to or understand. Nicola Creegan elaborates on this concept in her article, "Is Christian Feminism Possible?": "Feminism is associated in many people’s minds only with lesbianism and with single women who don’t want children or families" (1).

Le sigh.

Just as we labeled the kid who likes basketball a "jock" or the child who loves to read a "geek," we label women who insist they be treated equals as "feminists". All of these "labels" have derogatory connotations, despite the fact that there is nothing inherently wrong with them. What's more, there's usually a certain arrogant derision on the part of the party that does the labeling. Those who don't like or can't play sports turn "jock" into an insult. Those who don't enjoy or struggle with reading or studying render "geek" a mockery. In the same way, those who don't truly understand what it means to be a feminist sometimes unfairly depict feminism in a two-dimensional fashion.

Which, of course, is precisely what they accuse feminists of doing:

Ex: "They [feminists] stand by the theory that following traditional female roles of caring for the family, having and raising children, and keeping the household clean is a culturally and socially influenced trait."

First of all, by labeling all feminists as "they," it is implied that all feminists adhere to these beliefs, that we all think the same way, and that all these thoughts are negative.

You want talk about feminists depicting "traditional" roles as ridiculous? What does the aforementioned not-so-fruedian slip suggest about how you "traditionally" view us?

As for the allegation itself...

Well...duh.

But who says we're arguing that all of these traits are inherently negative? Perhaps we are merely suggesting that, like anything, "traditional roles" can be put on a pedestal and be unhealthily glorified. Just like any number of things, the roles of "wife" and "mother" can become idols in women's lives, tempting us to draw our identity from our relationships, status, and the things we do - instead of our identities in Christ.

When we focus on these desires to the point of neglecting everything else, when romance and relationships become an obsession, we lose our identity and our purpose. We abandon becoming the beautiful person God created us to be and, instead, try to validate our existence through our romantic status. We tie our hopes, dreams, and self-esteem into another human being - a mere man - instead of our maker.

As a recent survivor of an unhealthy, unbalanced, unequal relationship, I have learned all too well the cost of putting your entire focus and self-worth in another human being. Never again. Significance comes from being who you are: not from a relationship or lack thereof.

Ex: "They [feminists] stand by the theory that anyone who follows those roles does so, not because they WANT to, but because they were "raised to believe that way".They nullify an individual's ability to think for oneself, mitigating a woman's choice to follow that role as one of "brainwashing. Feminity becomes stupid and inferior....However, the "intelligent" women are the ones that "throw off the shackals of slavehood and become liberated", finding fulfillment in being powerful CEO's and VP's. [Feminists have] thrown away everything female about themselves.... their ovaries, their hair...all to be more like MEN."

I find this statement to be particularly offensive. I LIKE being a girl. In no way, shape, or form do I possess any desire to shake off my gender and become a man. I like high-heels, skirts, and pearl necklaces. I love getting dolled up to go out on the town. Flowers still make me giggle. I delight in waltzing into a room, girly as can be, and swiftly showing all the men in there that I'm just as capable as they are. Just because I insist on not being walked upon like a piece of shag carpet does not mean that I am seeking a sex change.

What's more, maybe I don't want to be confined in your box of "traditional femininity". After all, if we are both sinful, fallible human beings, what makes your interpretation of the gospel any more valid than mine? Since when has being ambitious or successful been equated with un-womanliness? That's like saying a husband who "cooks" for his wife is "unmanly". I, quite frankly, find that endearing.

The issue comes back to equality: not "traditional" roles.

Feminism, as defined by Wikipedia, is simply this: "the belief that women should have equal political, social, sexual, intellectual and economic rights to men" ("Feminism"). We're not asking to be better than men. We're not asking to be men. We're simply asking to be treated with the same dignity and respect that men have historically recieved - the respect that all human beings are entitled to possess. Nothing more; nothing less.

"There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for we are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28.

For true feminists, unlike "femi-nazis," the real issue at stake is social justice. Justice means each person is treated fairly - regardless of his or her gender. If the husband works out of the home and the wife is a homemaker, there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's wonderful! He's meeting the external financial needs; she's meeting the internal domestic needs. If the husband works and the wife sits around and does nothing, however, a true feminist would say "There's a problem here!" We don't want to see men abused any more then we want to see women mistreated.

The problem arises when women are told that this domestic role is all that they are allowed fulfill, when women are treated like servants, like property, like play things - all in the name of adhering to tradition. Some of us want more than what tradition can offer. Some of us are messy. Some of us would rather be outside in a garden.

We are each fearfully and wonderfully made, but we were not all made the same.

I, most likely, will never be content to be a housewife. Not because I don't want to get married, not because I don't want children, but because it is not enough for me. I don't want to be defined by my gender, my romantic relationships, or reproductive abilities alone. No. I want to be defined by my actions, by the good I do in this world, and by the legacy I leave behind. If I define myself solely by my status as wife and mother, what happens when my husband dies or leaves me? What happens when I can't have children? Do I cease to exist? Do I cease to have purpose and meaning?

No. I live. I thrive. I press onward to acheive the goal that has been laid out for me.

Anything less is a denial of who God made me to be.

So I will proudly wear my "This is what a feminist looks like" shirt - along with my stilettos and pencil skirts.

Keeping Busy

2009-04-02T21:29:00.001-07:00

If you're confused as to why I need to "keep busy," or are in need of greater clarity, please check previous entry. I don't have the emotional energy to re-hash it here.

Current Status: exhausted, emotional, but trying to heal

Went with my mom to the Biltmore House in Ashville, NC today. It was absolutely beautiful. We spent three hours touring the "house" (here meaning gargantuan piece of architecture that has no business deigning to call itself a "house"), I felt like I was back in England again. I desperately wanted to pitch a tent and live on the grounds. God only knows how long we spent in the flower gardens. My mom has been a huge help to me...I thank God almost incessantly for her and for my family. There's no way I'd be getting through this without them. All of them - escpecially my mother - have been a huge comfort to me. She's even coming to stay with me for a couple of days so I won't have to be totally alone those first nights back...

We took lots of silly pictures at the Biltmore. Mom helped me remember how to laugh and play: even bought me a new teddy bear named Dylan since I'm not exactly comfortable sleeping with the ones my former boy purchased for me...and they were all I had...

Dreaming Big: someday, if I find a man I can keep, I think I'd like to have my honeymoon there. It gives me something to look foward to...something to hope for when I seem to be so decidedly lacking in hope...

I also got my hair cut. I mean, really cut. As in, picture Mandy Moore in "How to Deal" short. Yeah. That's me.

I wanted to feel like I was in control of something...like my body, like my self, was mine again. He-who-shall-not-be-named always wanted me to keep my hair long. And the only reason I ever grew it out was for the wedding, so...hence the hackage. I really like it, though. It'll take some getting used to, but I feel like it's more "me"...little things like that are helping me re-discover the person I lost through all of this.

That and writing. Writing really seems to be cathartic for me right now. It's like I can't process what's happening to me unless I pour it out in print...

Speaking of which....

Once again, I'd like to reiterate a request: Please don't hunt my former boy down. We were both responsible for letting things get the way they were: not just him. I have my share of responsibility in this. So, to those of you who I've trusted with my story: I'm also trusting that you have the maturity and wisdom to let certain things be. Namely, he and I both have a lot of healing to do: please don't jeapordize his road to recovery by creating any additional pain or heartache. My sharing is meant to be a confession of why I'm where I'm at: not a condemntation for those who helped get me there.

At any rate...back to NC....

I've only got one day left here and then we're headed back to Fla. I can't believe Spring Break is already over. I love my kids, but I've no desire to get back to them. In fact, I'm absolutely dreading it. So much happened during this "break" that I didn't really get to rest the way I would have liked. That, and my children are not stupid: they all knew I was engaged. They will also know what a new hair cut and the absence of a ring means. I'm more than a little anxious about all of the nosy, well-intentioned, and highly inappropriate questions they'll be apt to ask me.

I just hope to God none of my flirty, "sexual harassment suit waiting to happen," teenage boys says something stupid. The referrals and detentions they recieve will not just be terrible: they will be legendary. I'm thinking toothbrushes for mops on the tile floors of my classroom.

Bring it, punks. I dare you.

Yes, I'm still broken. Yes, I'm still healing. But I remember a story a friend of mine once told me. She said that I'd developed quite a reputation in the FSC English Dept: "something of a legend." Apparently, my newspaper escapades are still merrily recounted. During one of these tale tellings, one student apparently said "You don't mess with her."

I like that.

I might be messed up...but I know with the love of my friends I won't be forever. It hurts now...but hope and healing will come. You don't mess with me...and you don't mess with us.

Love you all.

Belle out.

Wow. It's been a while...

2009-04-02T20:15:00.000-07:00

It's been a little over a year now since I last wrote. Lots of things in my life have changed since then. I feel more than a little lost, especially as of late. I am working, however, to get my feet back on the ground.

Updates:

Found boy. Fell for boy. Loved boy. Got engaged to boy. It didn't work....

So I tried to make it work. Tried to fix it anyway. Staid with boy out of love and fear of the oh-so-awful "I told you so" from former allies-turned-absentees. Hid strife from friends, but staying only hurt us both. Became ashamed and embarrased. Lost trust. Lost hope. Lost too many things to count... lost myself. Became scared for my emotional / mental/ physical/ spiritual well being. Got tired of crying myself to sleep. Had a conversation with a "lil" friend of mine. Learned that some things cannot be fixed, no matter how badly you want them to be. Spoke to grandmother. Spoke to parents. Spoke to God. Subsequently, broke his heart and mine by walking away.

Doing the right thing hurts like hell.

Current Status:

Wish broken boy the best as he -hopefully - seeks help to gain healing. Hoping he'll find the peace and happiness he so desperately needs...heartbroken that I couldn't be the one to give it to him.

Currently alternating between intense relief and indescribable sorrow/guilt. Never wanted or expected to be in this place. In need of help...so will eventually be going to a counselor to deal with the parasites of pain that are wriggling their way through my soul. Trying to rebuild self-esteem, rediscover identity, and re-claim faith. Ashamed. Humiliated. Broken...but hoping and praying that the healer of broken everythings will restore me. Hoping to learn from my failings to help myself and others keep from ever visting this place again.

Sorry for any heartache I've caused along the way.

Waiting for the sun to rise...waiting for the silent screams to ease into a still surrender. Trusting that purpose and direction will be revealed...and that I'll be granted the strength and grace to follow through.

That's where I'm at. That's all I've got.

The more things change...

2007-10-24T19:32:00.000-07:00

...the more they stay the same.

Lol. It's been awhile yet, unsurprisingly, I'm still in the same position. Ix nay on the oy bay I could have oved lay.

Update: acquired Latino Don Juan who hunted me like the dickens. Was fun. Helluva kisser. Felt flattered and admired. Nice to be pursued.

Reality Check: Seems said Don Juan is only interested in one thing...despite assurances otherwise...and it pisses this non-giver of said thing off to no end.

Conclusion: am destined to remain singleton, become crazy cat lady, and eventually get eaten by wild dogs in an ironically Bridget Jones-esque fashion. Before death will write poems/novels of love that I am less than likely to attain that shall be unearthed post-mortem.

Consolation: will hopefully publish said book of poetry and/or novel to make my status of destined doggy dinner slightly more bearable. May also attend ivy league school or live in England where my bitter cynicism will be dubbed normal and entertaining. Hoorah for dry British wit.

Current Status: Wishing I was not in state of sappy 18th century Romance writer too in love with cliches...Wanting someone to, a la Maroon 5, have someone who will "tap on my window, knock on my door. Come and make me feel beautiful." Someone who wouldn't "mind waiting every day, out on my corner in the pouring rain," would "look for this girl with a broken smile, ask me if I'd like to stay a while..." say "You will be loved. You will be loved..."

Redezvouzs with redundancy. Gotta love 'em.

Fortune Favors the Bold...one way or another.

2007-08-28T10:40:00.000-07:00

I've been meditating on the nature of risks, fears, and -most importatly- courage as of late. I recently did something that terrified me(primarily because of its potential to wreak havoc with my heart and emotions). I really wrestled with this decision...because I knew that making it could turn out quite badly...and it may yet. Quite frankly, courage doesn't always pay. Sometimes courage can cost you the greatest happiness you could ever desire. Courage means confronting an issue, facing a challenge that may result in the greatest ecstasy or the ultimate sorrow. Courage means honesty...and that honesty can be both freeing and devastating. Courage doesn't mean that you will be rewarded for your sacrifice, for conquering your fears and quelling your panic to reach for that dream which is just in sight but not in your grasp.

More often than not, it will instead leave you battered and broken. No single act can produce greater suffering, isolation, and utter devastation as an act of courage. No other effort can result in greater suffering, sorrow, and heartache. Courage requires risk and sacrifice. It forces us to surrender our facades, tear down our inner strongholds, and strip away the layers of our superficiality until only a breathtakingly vulnerable and beautiful authenticity remains. The physical, emotional, and/or spiritual cost of courage is the greatest of all debtors, because its rewards are as blissfully wonderful as its punishments are earth-shatteringly cruel.

There is nothing as rapturously beautiful as a moment of true courage. The boundless hope, the all too brief breath of belief that the future is limitless, and the fleeting second when possibilities are endless following a moment of courage is unequaled in both its divinity and savagery. The potential harm inflicted by moments of courage, the depthless despair that unrewarded acts of bravery can inspire, may - in fact - drive a person to abandon said acts altogether. Better to tread the earth in mediocrity than to taste the skies and fall.

This passive alternative, though, this quiet resignation to a world without joy, is no less painful than the wounds one may recieve in the quest for courage. The mind-numbing agony of indecision, the gnawing voice in your mind that screams "What if?" is by no means a better bedfellow. The refusal to act courageously is a decision to be tormented by the ghosts of what might have been. You will never have a moment's peace or a smidgen of traquility in the absence of courage, because courage can provide the one thing we humans crave the most: answers. For better or worse, courage enables us to confront our fears, summon our integrity, and discuss the things that most terrify us. Abandonment, rejection, heartbreak, isolation: we risk all these things when we choose daring over a silent despondency, but better an honest desolation than an artificial joy based on ignorance. To be courageous is to seek the truth, trusting that - no matter how painful - we are capable of moving beyond that pain and that it is impossible for us to embrace a lie - no matter how beautiful - and still be satisfied.

Courage is pain; truth is pain, but both courage and truth are unquestionably real. And I'd rather live an authentic life - one with both intense joy and uncomprehendable sorrow - than settle for a pale imitation.

Mere Christianity

2007-08-13T20:25:00.000-07:00

So my friend, Christina, came over this evening to hang out for a bit. We watched "The Brothers Grimm," talked about our weeks, and just had a good time. It's been wonderful having someone nearby to talk to; we've both definitely been each other's solace these past several weeks. Christina is looking into taking some classes at a nearby seminary and, naturally, much of our discussion this evening centered on Christianity, the Church, and doctrine.

Since Christina's Episcopalian, one of the subjects we eventually drifted into was her disappointment with the division in the Episcopal church and doctrinal differences there. Obviously, one of the hot button issues in the church right now is homosexual rights and whether or not homosexuals can serve as ministers. Christina's stance was that she was less upset that the minister was openly gay than she was about the fact that he was practicing and, in doing so, cheating on his wife. Interesting line of thought, no? Sexual sin is sin whether it's hetero or homo. Her argument, based on the New Testament, is that if a person's house is not in order, he (or, in my opinion, she) should not be leading the church.

This concept, in turn, led to us discussing the nature of pastors and of the church in general, specifically the flaws within both. I remember that, once upon a time, I used to take every word that dropped out of a pastor's mouth as law. I would sit in the front row, frantically scribble down notes, and vow to memorize every sub-point of every sermon. I was so certain that, no matter how irrelevant a given sermon might seem, that I was capable of gleaning some shining truth out of it that would change my life and make me a better person and Christian.

Then, through a series of events that I will not relate here, I experienced that singular, painful, experience that initiates us all into adulthood: disillusionment. Through an emotionally traumatizing situation, I was forced to recognize the fact - the previously impossible and seemingly blasphemous idea - that pastors are imperfect. This, in turn, soon lead to the realization that church people - like all people - are also imperfect and -indeed- the church itself is far from flawless. This seemingly simple piece of information shattered my tiny, idealistic, world. It opened up a purgatory of grey space a reality in which I could no longer fully trust the words that dropped from a pastor's mouth, believe that my fellow Christians always had my best interests at heart, and that - perhaps - the Bible and Christianity itself as I had learned to perceive them could no longer be left unexamined.

Bottom line: church people are no different than un-churched people. They share the same hopes, dreams, and ambitions. They also share the same flesh, the same weaknesses. A pastor will sin just as readily and easily as a drug addict. A priest can be a pedophile just as easily as a convict. The only difference between Christians and non-Christians is that Christians - when truly seeking God and acting out the tenets of their faith - will understand and admit their failings, seeking redemption for their failure and incapability to be righteous (thus the whole "it is by grace you have been saved, through faith; not by works, so that no one may boast").

This realization, when actualized, is both freeing and terrifying. It means that the concrete answers I once thought I had are not so concrete anymore. It means people who I thought would never betray me, simply because they were Christians, can and will one day. It means that pastors will say things that are wrong, Christians will do things that are wrong, and I too will do things that are equally unacceptable. Because we are imperfect.

It also means that I can allow people - both Christians and non-Christians - to be just that: people. This knowledge enables me to, since I am aware of my own failings, leave room for the faults and flaws of others. It enables me to love the homosexuals and heterosexuals, just as they are. It keeps me from judging them, from hypocritically using the Word as a weapon in a quest to smite them into submission, from coercing them into conforming with my limited vision of the gospel and of God. It means I no longer can assume that I have all the answers and it prevents me from trying to change people who don't fit my concept of how people should be. It forces me to recognize my own bitter mistakes, to swallow my pride and acknowledge my own utter idiocy, and utter the two most difficult words in the English language: "I'm sorry."

Most importantly, it compels me to love people - just as they are - because there are people who have and there is a God who has - in spite of my imperfections, my neuroticisms, and my endless selfishness - chosen to love me. It allows me to accomplish the most difficult feat in all the world: to forgive and be forgiven. All because I am not perfect. We are not perfect. The world is not perfect.

But God is.

This is the truth we, first as individuals, then as fellow strugglers, must build our lives upon. We cannot focus on legalism or religiosity. Ritual, regulation, and rigidity have no place here. Wearing the right clothes, saying the right things, and attending church every Sunday like good little saints is not the answer. Prancing around and wailing in self-righteous self-denial and martyrdom is hardly what the solution is. Nor is condemning others for their mistakes, touting our own "holiness" (as if it was ours to begin with), or isolating ourselves in a "holy huddle" from the world is not the answer. Trying to be good enough won't do it. Abandoning hope all together because we feel we can never earn enough redemption - and, indeed, we cannot - won't fix it. Pretending that we have no doubts, fears, or anxieties won't solve the problem. Simultaneously, refusing to hope and deciding to never trust again is equally insufficient.

Being good is not the answer. Sacrifice is not the answer. Indulgence is not the answer. People are not the answer. Pastors are not the answer. The Church is not the answer. And, yes, even the Bible - by itself - is not the answer.

Jesus is the answer.

The call, the question, and the solution. The perfection, the trust, and the revolution. The scandalous, the sacred, and our restitution. Our life, our love, and our absolution.

Jesus.

Kindred Spirits

2007-08-12T19:41:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed how the vast majority of women writers - Emily Dickinson, Jane Austen, etc, etc - remained steadfastly alone? Their works have touched the lives of millions. Their creativity and passion are the stuff of literary legend. However, they failed to attain the one thing they desired above all else: a loving, lasting, relationship.

Jane Austen, in particular, strikes a chord with me. Granted, I'm probably focused on her more since I just went to see "Becoming Jane," but -nevertheless- I identify with the poor girl. As characters in the movie all too frequently proclaimed "The good do not always come to good ends." In fact, I think the word "seldom" was even applied at one point. Jane, for all her fire, passion, and devotion, was denied the one happiness she craved most in life. She spent her entire life writing, yes, and doing what she loved, but she paid for it: she lost the love of her life.

When given the choice between being "good," "successful," or "happy," which do you choose? Particularly if the three show no signs of aligning? In terms of heaven and hell, good is the obvious choice. And, sometimes, good people gain success. But for all our insistence that righteousness will be rewarded, the rewards are decidedly few and far between in this fallen world.

At this point in my life, though, I feel like if I am "good" then I cannot be "successful" or "happy." For me, successful would be a writing career and book deals...something I seem unable to attain without writing about dark, Anti-Christian, themes. Is that sending out a postive, Christ-focused message to the world? No. But am I good at it and, on some level, do I enjoy and believe in it? Yes. It's also troubling to me that the minute I enter "yay Jesus," mode, when I ignore human suffering, I seem completely unable to write anything at all...

But, even if I am successful without being good, that does not mean I will be happy. Like Emily, Jane, and so many other women writers before me, I wonder if I too am destined to spend my life alone, craving love and a connection with someone but never attaining it. While watching a scene in the movie in which Jane Austen is attempting to Elope with Lefroy, my friend -Christina- leaned over and asked me "If you had to give up EVERYTHING in order to be happy, would you do it?" Overwhelmed, all I could offer her was a weak "I don't know" in response.

Everything. That's a big word, isn't it? What price would I pay to be genuinely and truly happy? Would I sacrifice my friends? My family? Would I suffer my mother's tears and my father's silent disappointment? The potential subsequent disowning that would be likely to follow? Could I handle being an object of disappointment? Shame? Someone who is whispered about regretfully behind closed doors? Could I surrender certain ideals, traditions, and manners of thinking? Eschew values with which I have been raised, thereby breaking the hearts of others who love me in the process? Could I give up dreams of being "famous"? Of pursuing my own career in whatever field I choose? My dreams? My goals? My ambitions? Could I really surrender EVERYTHING? And is being happy really everything to begin with?

I'm not sure that I have a concrete answer to that question. Experience has taught me that love is sacrificial in nature and, by default, one should expect to give something up in order to gain it. True love, after all, is rooted in an absence of selfishness, in considering the other person and loving them enough to realize the difference between wants and needs. Ideally, they should look after your needs and you should look after theirs. Then both parties are equally protected and cherished. Knowing that, then, part of me is more than willing and, indeed, capable of surrendering things in order to love and be loved. It's part of being human, really. And there is most definitely a rash, reckless, and zealous part of me that would joyously burn bridges if I knew something beautiful would be waiting for me on the other side.

So there's the eternal pardox: Happiness = love. Love = sacrifice. But what happens when your sacrifice, your "selflessness" towards one person, causes you to act selfishly towards another? What if the person you love causes you to hurt others? Ex. Family doesn't approve of your sacrifice/the one you love. Or someone else also cares about the one you love and you hurt said someone by pursuing the one you want. Can you be selfless and selfish at the same time? Can your willingness to love someone else, to achieve that happiness that all human beings crave, be construed as selfish as wrong?

Part of me desperately craves to break free from everything I've ever known. I both do and do not want to be selfish. I don't want to hurt anyone...but I want my life to be MINE. I want to chase after something I think is beautiful and wonderful...even if other people I care about don't agree. I don't want to be condemned for being different, for being a-typical. I WANT TO BE FREE. Free to just be...me. Unhindered by the expectations of my family and the church. I daresay God - who made me - must be aware of how I am. None of this, therefore, should come as a shock to him. I just want to be human: a flaw-filled, imperfect, human. I want to be allowed to make mistakes and not have people think less of me because of them. I want to break rules. I want to taste the forbidden. And who says it's forbidden anyway? The fam? The church? Some long dead Jewish disciple who was just as human, flawed, and sinful as I am? Hmmm.....

It will be interesting to see where things go with this boy of mine. I feel like this will be a pivotal decision for me - should things continue on the course I hope. Will I draw back and return to the life, values, and beliefs I've known? Or will I surge forward and abandon "everything" for the chance to encounter something real? Or will I even be allowed to have the chance to make that choice? Will I have the courage to do what seems to be the harder of the two - choosing happiness?

I've gotten all too skilled at playing the martyr. I discussed this very issue with my friend Kadi the other night. In regards to "The Boy," she told me the following: "You need to take that chance and experience what it is he has to give you.. Or later along the road, you'll regret it. I mean.. he's what you've been looking for, and you deserve your chance at being happy, at least for a while. Take it... you've just got to give yourself at least this.... It's time to live."

Something in me soared upon reaading those words on my AIM screen. I only have this one life to live, this one chance to learn, grow, and fail/succeed on my own terms. When it's done, it's done. When I'm in either heaven (hopefully) or hell, the time for decisions and changes will have come and gone. I am utterly terrified...I don't know what will happen...I do know I'm tired of feeling like I'm living a hollow shell of an existence. One thing is for certain...Kadi's right: It's time to live. God, please....PLEASE, let me live....

Sorrow, Serpents, and Searches

2007-08-06T20:03:00.000-07:00

I've come to the conclusion that I am a somewhat depressed person. Or, at least, I suffer from a very melancholic personality type. It amazes me how quickly I can go from feeling absolutely wonderful to bone-shatteringly heartbroken. Maybe it's just that I'm overly sensitive. I do tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve: a classic symptom of an artist's temperment, I know, but I just can't seem to help it.

I'm feeling horrendously overwhelmed. This whole "you need to be a grown-up" thing is starting to kick in and I'm absolutely terrified. I'm starting to realize how little time I have left before graduation, before I'm supposed to find a "real job" and become an "adult." I feel...trapped. Like I'm suffocating under the weight of my own future. My writing block has yet to dissipate, I have to hunt for jobs and apartments, and hope that I get into a decent grad school that I can simultaneously afford.

Of course, my foul mood is compunded by the fact that I don't know where I stand with "The Boy." First he drops words like "couple" and "dating". Then he reverts to the ever so dangerous "friends." Back and forth, back and forth. My mind and heart can't take much more of it. I really am tired of being alone. I've been as patient as I know how to be. You'd think after being single for all except 2 weeks of your life that a girl would be long overdue for some luck. It's not that I can't make it on my own: I just don't want to. I'm so tired of being alone. I want someone to hold me, to cuddle up next to me in bed as we watch stupid action flicks and make fun of the actors. I want someone I can leave random notes for to brighten his day and remind him that he's loved. I want someone who I can laugh with, argue with, cry with, and -most importantly- love. I'm so ready to be taken...and it would be so nice to actually win in that arena for a change...

A friend of mine, who has since sadly regressed to being more of an acquaintance, once told me that I was the best Slytherin incognito she knew (Meaning that I was sneaky, clever, ambitious and -above all- competition). On the one hand I was flattered. On the other, I was deeply saddened. She - like so many people I know - cast me in a category that I have yet to understand: threat. Apparently, I'm wonderfully skilled at intimidating the dickens out of people, which makes me laugh because I spend 3/4 of my time being intimidated by everyone else. My newfound "prowess" makes me laugh. It's so strange to go from social outcast to quasi-butterfly. People think I'm this terribly confident/arrogant individual who's out to step on everyone. In reality, I'm just a bookworm who has gained a smidgen of poise and masquerades as a confident person because I don't want to make myself a target for those who DO step on people...

Yes, I'm horribly ambitious. I want to DO something with my life. I want to be remembered years from now as someone who contributed something to the world. If there's anything I fear, it's mediocrity. I want to be respected, recognized, etc. I want my life to MEAN somthing. I want to prove my worth, significance, and skill. In some ways, I guess I do want to be competition (that's just not all I want to be).

Yes, I'm fairly clever. I can do the social manuvering thing just as easily as I can ace a Lit exam. I know the words to drop and the smiles to plaster on, much as I hate doing so. I'll admit it: I most definitely DO know how to play the game. Trouble is, I don't have the heart to.

So the ultimate dilemma then, is this: I have all the skills and traits that signal me as "threat" but not the selfishness to act on them. Well, not that I don't have it, but I try desperately to supress it because I have no love of hurting people. I'm just so tired of scaring people. Why does "different" have to be frightening? Yes, I'm smart. I guess there's no denying that now. But that doesn't mean I'm going to use my intellect to abuse you. I've slipped on ocassion, but that's never really been my ultimate goal. Yes, I suppose I could be classified as "cute," but that doesn't mean I'm out to steal your boyfriend simply because I said "hello" and smiled at him. I LOVE it when that happens (insert eyeball roll of epic proportions here).

I could be that cruel. I could be that vicious. I could be that selfish...but I choose not to be. Why? Because I care about people. Becasue, beneath all my failings, I'd rather help people than harm them.

So what do you do when you're a Slytherin with the heart of a Hufflepuff, the brains of a Ravenclaw, and the reckless loyalty and zealousness of a Gryffindor? Really? Where do you fit? Where do you go? What do you do? I sometimes wonder if my perpetual singleness and isolation are the result of my "scariness" factor. I'm really not that scary. Not really. It's just that no matter what I do, people seem too eager to believe their preconcieved ideas about me rather than inquiring and finding out the truth...

I suppose this boils down to the fact that I want someone to see me for, well, me. Someone who can look beyond the facade, beyond the mask I wear to make others happy, and see me for who I am...and like what they find. God help me find contentment and hope in my solitude for the meantime....

In Veritas Libertas

2007-07-24T07:13:00.001-07:00

For the past several years, I've really been strugging with this whole "spiritual walk" thing we Christians aspire to. I'm discovering that I care less and less about the church (as an organization) and about the legalistic (and decidedly biased) fringe aspects of the Bible. Instead, my mind and heart have been caught up in a desire to know God for who he (though I dislike the idea of putting God inside the box of gender) is. I want to know God as GOD - not who pastors, teachers, and other Christians try to paint him as. I don't want levitical interpretations of divinity. I don't want a faith that glosses over doubt and fear without ever really addressing either. I don't want a life so wrapped up in looking and acting perfect that no room is left for grace. I WANT SOMETHING REAL.

Maybe I'm a little too akin to Thomas for my own good, but I want to see and experience God for myself: not have him spoonfed to me. I think all too often the church, pastors, and even sincere and well-meaning Christians take the Bible WAY out of context and misinterpret what it represents. THey cover up the doubts and inconsistencies in the Bible with a spiritual heal-all: faith. "Well, I might not understand, but I'm trusting that there's a reason for all of this..."

No. There is no reason for the injustice that occurs in the Bible, for the atrocities that are committed in the name of God (who may or may not have ordered said atrocities). I think we give far too much credit to the original writers of the Bible. We assume them to be these saintly, holy, and flawless people who for x amount of time completely surrendered their lives to write down an "accurate" account of God's presence on this earth and the actions of his people. What we forget, though, is that history is written by the winners and that these people were just that: people. They had hopes, fears, strengths, weaknesses, and sins just like the rest of us. Oh, and that prickly little thing called free-will, which opens up a whole 'nother kettle of worms interms of Biblical interpretation...

. If the Bible is flawed, can God still be good? Can you still believe in God/Jesus when there may be inconsistencies/injustices in his work? What about the whole gender issue? Is God really a "he"? What about women's roles in faith and in society? What about homosexuals? What about cursing or offensive language? Alcohol? Is it okay to trust your own conscience over what you've read/been taught by a pastor? All things that I will probably rant about in future blogs. That's all for now. Let the games begin.

A Novel Concept

2007-07-16T16:43:00.000-07:00

*Insert shudder here*
God preserve me from such a fate. Remember boys and girls: friends don't let friends write fanfiction. Upon all that is holy and worthy of reading, PLEASE spare the world. There's enough of that dribble out there already; write your own stories.

On that note, in the absence of the ability to create anything remotely resembling poetry, I've taken to tinkering with a side project of mine: a YA novel. I tend to write stories with sci-fi/fantasy themes, largely because such stories were my literary bread and butter growing up, but I'm trying desperately to come up with something that isn't completely cliche. Granted, such a statement is probably cliche in and of itself, but that's nevertheless what I'm striving for.

As much as I love the genre, there are so many sterotypical elements that occur in any given YA fantasy novel. Ex: Young hero/heroine who is an orphan who suffers terribly at the hands of his/her guardians. He/she is really an alien or a fairy and has been "kept in the dark" about his/her heritage. He/she encounters some "magical" portal that takes him/her to another world(Thank-you, Kristin Nelson, from the Nelson Literary Agency, for your blog on THAT issue.^-^)

My goal, essentially, is to - within reason - turn every staple of the YA fantasy genre on its head. Well, maybe not every staple...I rather like a few of them. (Insert sinfully delicious villian here. Mmmm.)

The idea, though, is that readers typically expect certain conventions to be in place when they read a fantasy novel: there is a hero, a quest, and a villian to be vanquished. My question - the concept I'd love to toy with - is simply this: what happens when your hero is really a villain? When black and white aren't so wonderfully obvious? I know it's quintissential post-modernism, but I love the idea of playing with the ethics behind traditional fairy-tales. What happens when you don't instantly have magical solutions to all of your problems? When dragons are good? When knights are not? When everything you've ever known is nothing but a lie?

In the end, I suppose most of these "inversions" have been done as well. That's the trouble with writing: there's really nothing original left. Those who write masterpieces only do so because they've developed the skill to hide who they subconconciously get their ideas from. Our only hope, as writers, is that our versions of the age old stories will be uniquely compelling when told from our perspectives.

Incipit

2007-07-15T10:20:00.000-07:00

I feel like something big is looming on the horizon: something life-changing and irrevocable. I've got so many changes coming up in my life, some of which have already been set in motion. I graduate this December with a BA in English. I will be out of school and in the "adult" world hunting for a way to support myself and a place to rest my head at night. This is, God willing, my last summer at home with my family. I love them, but it's become abundantly clear that I need to be on my own. I really just don't fit there anymore.

Then there's the subject of grad schools: where will I go, when will I go, what can I afford, what degree will I choose? The list is endless. For all of my professor's insistence that my poetry is "powerful" and that I will be published and giving readings one day, I'm really not certain that I'm all that good. I like my work, but what I like and readers like can be two different things. I'm supposed to have fifty plus poems for my portfolio; I've only got a dozen or so that are worth anything and time is running out. Not to mention the fact that a seemingly insurmountable wall of writer's block is barring my poetic progress...and has apparently made me anal about alliteration...

Regardless, all of these things boil down to one simple fact: my life is about to change. Change has always both excited and frightened me. I tend to be a security oriented peson so, consequently, I'm not crazy about huge changes in what I'm comfortable with. At the same time, though, I know change is necessary for growth...insert dramatic sigh...
Maybe that's why I created this blog: to catalogue the change. Here, at least, I have the safety of anonymity to protect me as I finally allow myself to be honest about what I feel. No pretty facades. No masques. Just me. And maybe, by just being me, I'll somehow manage to get through this crazy little thing we call life. We'll see.